22 July 2012
A sunday roast disaster, The chicken tastes like plaster. My mum's crying in the corner, Like a very mournful mourner.
The trimmings on the ceiling, The gravy on the wall. Oh dear, it looks like the local takeaway we are going to have to call
I didn't mean to do it, It wasn't me to dare But I placed a helpful spider for everyone to stare
The roast flew in the ceiling, as my mother gave a shriek Every word of having lunch was looking very bleak
Sunday Roast Disaster • Opuss № I